Heartland
by teaandcharcoalforbreakfast
Summary: America and England are in the middle of a two-month vacation in Nowhere, Iowa for a chance to get away. And, of course, to have sex undisturbed. deanon from kink meme. Prompt was "sex with a comfortable and happy atmosphere," so yes.


England could still hardly believe his luck as he sat on America's back porch after a long day of work out on his boyfriend's farm. Sixty long years of trying and he and America had finally, _finally _managed to coordinate their two-month leaves so that they were together the whole time. They had spent the first month in London and had a lovely time, but then America had talked them into taking the second month in a very rural part of Iowa.

Even though he had been against it at first, England was glad they did. He felt a stone lighter with his blackberry and wallet with its plethora of IDs inside, locked in one of the bedside tables. This month was a golden opportunity, a chance for the two of them to do the work themselves, getting dirt under their nails and using the strength that normally needed to be hidden away behind nice suits and diplomacy. It was such a nice break from all the contracts and legal documents and the utter complexity of the modern world. England felt so lovely and warm whenever he could slide between the sheets and go to sleep after scrubbing the dirt and sweat from his skin and with muscles still sore from a hard day's work.

England loved it. He loved the simplicity. He loved the casualness. He loved the little things, like being able to wake up and fall asleep in the same bed with the same warm body next to him every single night. It felt almost like they were a normal couple living a normal life together.

The sun was just starting to set and reds and purples were beginning to streak the western sky. America was sipping at an iced tea, but as that tasted like rat piss England had opted for cool water instead. He couldn't help but notice the way that America kept sneaking sidelong glances at him, only to look away once he'd been caught.

"Can I help you?" He demanded after about a minute of that.

America stiffened and blushed, "Well- uh- I-" He looked away, "You look good today, is all."

England smiled. He knew that America wasn't really nervous. It just looked flattering on him and the younger nation knew it. Most nights England would enjoy the act and both of them would play it for all it was worth. However, England didn't feel like it that night. Not that he couldn't still have his fun.

He ran a hand through his hair, slicking his sweat-damp fringe back so that America could get a better look at his face, "I can't imagine what you mean, America. I'm so sweaty and disgusting. I'm almost certain my underclothes are soaked."

He watched America from the corner of his eye. A shudder ran down his lover's spine. England's smile twitched a little bigger for a moment. America loved it when he would sweat. It didn't even matter whether or not it was from physical exertion. Even on the days when he sweated simply from heat he'd catch America staring, trying to take in every visible inch of flushed slick skin. He didn't even need to see it. England knew exactly what America was picturing in his occasionally-brilliant little mind. He was seeing England naked, bright pink, and damp. America was imagining coming closer, inhaling deeply to get more of the sent before licking at England's skin. He would focus on the inside of his elbows and his knees before moving up to where his thigh connected to his groin and-

Oh, now England was starting to feel warm. He drank more of his water, making sure to take slightly larger sips than usual. He felt America's eyes on his throat, watching him swallow. That was better, now he was back in control. He gave the rim of his cup a little lick, pretending to catch a stray drip. He didn't miss the way that America gave an audible swallow of his own. Given, that was probably part of the act he wasn't ready to give up yet, but it was encouraging.

"I'm sure I'm sunburned too," England said, remembering some of the other details America liked, "I've found all these freckles on my face and arms, so I'm sure that after today part of me will have gotten past that stage." He didn't have to look over to see that America was practically drooling. But he did anyway because it was a delightful sight.

America blushed deeper, but it was hard to say whether it was faked, out of arousal, or out of anger, "England, I- I think it's kinda… um… cool that you're out here working with me… and stuff," He turned his face so that it was at the most flattering angle he had and smiled sheepishly. Damn him, he was lovely.

"Yes, but I'm just so tired," He stretched, arching his back a little more than necessary. When he turned back to America he kept his eyes half-lidded and gave him a sleepy smile, "I can't imagine that total exhaustion is flattering on _anyone." _

At that point America gave up, "Well, if you're passed out you can't say no, so-"

Both of them looked away and snickered.

"Nothing like foul humor to ruin a perfectly good seduction attempt," England said once he regained his composure, "Good show, America." He clapped sarcastically three times.

"Hey, you messed it up first. You're not supposed to react like that to the innocent farm boy routine," he said, pursing his lips.

"I'm trying to improve your technique, which is an area in which you're lacking."

"Oh, I got plenty of technique," he leaned over to England with a disgusting grin on his face, "Let's go inside and I'll show you."

"I'll agree you have plenty of technique. It's just all piss-poor." He flicked America on the forehead.

"That's why you make really slutty noises whenever I put it in you, right?" He wrapped his arms around his chest and in a terrible imitation of England's accent said, "Oh, God, America! You're so fucking _amazing. _I want your big fat cock all the time. Oh, oh, _oh!" _

Although America was clearly just teasing him, England did enjoy the sound of the other nation moaning wantonly like that.

"Funny," England set his glass down on the table and it made a sharp sort of clinking noise, "that's the exact noise I recall you making the day before yesterday while _my _cock was up _your _arse."

"Nope," America said, "That was more like. 'Ah, ah. Oh fuck, England. Fuck me, goddammit. _Shit.'_" He let out a shudder and tipped his head back.

"I must say," England said, getting out of his chair to straddle America's lap, "Those sorts of whorish noises are much more becoming on you than feigning innocence or being a complete wanking pervert."

"Hey, I'm fine being a pervert as long as _you're _the one I'm wanking."

England rolled his eyes, "Shut up unless you're making delectable noises."

"Everything I say is delectable."

England leaned down and kissed him, which was much more effective at silencing him. England allowed his eyes to slide closed. There was another clink as America set down his iced tea. Thick, strong fingers tangled themselves in England's hair while England just kept a vice grip on America's broad muscular shoulders. He could feel America's thighs tensing beneath him slightly as he shifted around. He wasn't hard yet, but starting to get a little hot under the collar, as it were. England slid his tongue forward until he found America's and the two of them started to rub and tangle.

America pulled away first. He looked lovely. His eyes were half-closed, hair ruffled, cheeks still slightly pink.

"God, I want you," England said.

"I need you." America replied.

"I love you." England leaned down to kiss him gently once more, but he left before it could deepen.

"Come on," America said, "Let's go into the tall grass over there."

England scowled, "I refuse to have sex out here."

"Come on, you're such a prude," America pouted as England got off of his lap.

"Prudishness has nothing to do with it. There are small stones and other sharp objects down there and ticks and burrs I'd rather not be picking out of my pubic hair later."

"Come on, I'd pick 'em out for you."

England rolled his eyes and yanked on America's wrist to get him to stand. America giggled but followed obediently. The two of them walked back inside and went upstairs. England started heading towards the bathroom, but America stopped walking.

"Let's just go to bed," he said, "I don't wanna have to deal with enemas tonight."

"You know that means no anal. Of _any _sort."

"I do," America said, nodding, "I don't care." Grinning, he pulled England towards him and placed his hand on the other man's hip. He started wriggling his hips a little bit, "Besides, I wanna play with you some more."

England chuckled and placed a finger under America's chin, "Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"So eloquent."

"Eloquent _this," _America said, leaning forward and capturing England's lips in a kiss.

England let out a sigh and placed his hands on America's chest, feeling the well-defined muscles beneath his tee-shirt. America groaned into the kiss and moved both his hands to cup England's behind. England responded by swinging one leg up around America's waist, making the younger nation move one of his hands to feel up his thigh instead.

"Hey," he said breathlessly, "Let's go to bed,"

"Alright," England said, bringing his leg back down with a melodramatic sigh, "I _suppose _I could indulge you just this once."

America laughed, "Come on, old man, you're as dirty as me."

"Only for someone as lovely as you," England took one of America's hands and kissed it.

The larger nation blushed and looked away, but he couldn't hide the fact that he really appreciated the compliment. England smiled back. As much as he loved to tease America, he knew that he thrived off of positive feedback. He always had.

"Alright, then," England said, "You wanted me in bed, right?"

"Always," America replied.

"Then let's go." The older nation led them both to their bedroom.

"Go lie down," America said.

"You know you need to come with me, right?"

"Not gonna." He grinned.

"Why not?"

"I want you to put on a little show for me," America whispered, leaning close to England, "I wanna see how flexible you really are."

England started to feel flustered. "No," he said, stiffening, "I refuse."

"Please?" America asked, "I showed off for you a couple of days ago."

"It's too embarrassing," he muttered.

"It's not embarrassing," America said, "It's not like there's a crowd. It's just me. You've always done some really awesome stuff for me, so please?" He looked so sweet that England just couldn't deny him.

"Fine," he grumbled, getting down on all fours on the bed.

Then he was struck by the realization that he had no idea of what on earth he was supposed to do. America's bed was hardly the best place. It was too soft and didn't offer the support necessary for most of the positions he could easily twist himself into. Of course, America probably wasn't _really _looking for England to bend to the best of his ability. After all, the younger nation had walked in on him doing yoga on several occasions and told him to stop because it "looked too unnatural." Like he said, he was probably just looking for a show.

With that firmly in mind, England started improvising. He less stretched than simply roll about atop the sheets. America was for once completely silent. England would glance back from time to time, just to make sure that his partner was actually watching. Every single time he glanced back, though, America was staring at him and smiling. His eyes were such a beautiful rich blue, more gorgeous than any velvet any king had ever worn.

England had to look away. He couldn't handle it, his throat would close up and he would have to stop. To help distract himself he started to remove his clothes. He sighed. It felt so much better peeling away his sticky, sweaty clothes. He hadn't been lying when he told America that his underclothes were soaked. The next time he glanced back, even though America was still watching him he didn't seem quite so intimidating with his nose buried in England's a-shirt. America grinned at him from behind the cotton. America couldn't see his mouth, but the skin around his eyes crinkled and the tops of his cheeks rounded.

There was something lovely about the expression that made him seem more involved than before. It felt less like England was on display and more like it was just a game. He began to play more, arching his back and showing off his legs. America was more than smiling soon. He was starting to pant and blush and he had a nice looking bulge in his trousers. England flipped over onto his stomach. He could feel himself starting to react to America and he wasn't ready to show that yet. However, now that they were that close to the actual act it was time to start being more blatantly sexual. He rubbed himself against the blankets and moaned. America replied in kind and England could in his mind's eye see him stroking himself through his trousers.

England rolled back over and allowed his legs to cross, still keeping himself covered. He quickly brought his foot up to rest against his opposite hip and then slowly brought it back down, tracing along his leg until he reached his ankle. America's eyes followed his foot, taking in every inch of his leg as it passed. England spread his legs slightly and held out his arms.

"Oh, God, England," America said.

He moved quickly, getting into bed and sliding over England. America's jeans and belt felt rough against his bare skin and the tee-shirt was far too much of a barrier, but he was so warm and solid against him that he didn't really care. He wrapped his arms around America and kissed his ear.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Love you too," America replied, "I don't wanna leave to take this off."

"Who said anything about leaving?" England asked.

"What?"

England rolled them over so that he was on top. He straddled America's hips and pulled at his shirt, managing to get it off within a few seconds. He scooted further up America's body and turned around, attacking his belt. America, not content to just lie there, reached up and stroked his sides and back. England paused for a moment to enjoy the feeling before pulling down America's zipper and then sliding it down his hips. America cooperated, lifting the right parts at the right moments to help England strip him of his last remaining clothing. Once he'd kicked everything to the floor, he sat up and wrapped his arms around England. He rubbed his cock against England's ass, making both of them moan. His hands rubbed the smaller nation's chest and flicked his nipples. England reached back and guided America's chin to the side for a kiss. The younger man quickly lost interest in England's chest in favor of ravishing his mouth. That was a mistake, though, because it allowed England to get his hands between them and shove America down onto the bed.

"Hey!" Alfred exclaimed, pouting, "What was that for?"

"You don't expect me to go down that easily now, do you love?"

America laughed, "I was hoping."

England smirked and leaned down to suck at America's collarbone.

"That's nice," America said, petting England's hair.

The older man hummed softly into his partner's skin before sliding further down his body. He licked and nipped his way until he reached his stomach.

Since he had reached adulthood, America had always been a bigger man. He had broad shoulders and a large chest and throughout most of his life he'd also carried a healthy layer of fat around his middle. However, at some point he'd decided that he would rather be thin and spent far too much time at the gym working hard to melt it all away. England considered himself very lucky at times like these, when America was too busy to put so much conceited effort into his appearance and he put on all the weight that he was supposed to have. He looked so much healthier, so much more beautiful.

England carefully rubbed America's belly, enjoying the way that the slightly soft flesh molded to his hands. He leaned down to nibble and lick and his sides. He was confused by America's lack of wiggling. Usually his belly was so sensitive that any such touches were usually enough to turn the younger nation into a little puddle of nerves that could do nothing but beg for him to go lower. England looked up at America and was surprised to see him frowning.

"You're just making fun of me," he said, "Stop it."

"No I'm not," England said, returning his lover's frown, "I was just playing."

"More like teasing," America looked away.

Oh, why did he still have to be so self-conscious? And in front of _England _no less. Well, the phase would pass soon enough. For now, he would just have to lighten the mood a bit.

"Don't be silly, love, _this _is teasing," His strokes turned into feather-light caresses and he again put his lips to America's skin, but this time he barely brushed him.

America let out a light, breathless sort of laugh, "No, come on now, that's not fair-"

But his only response was that of fingers running across his navel.

America's stomach muscles clenched and unclenched as he tried to hold back his laughter. It felt rather interesting under England's lips and fingers. For the sake of trying something new, he sat up between America's knees, still tickling his stomach. By this point the other nation was starting to lose control, laughs slipping out now and then. His eyes were still open and looking at him with love. England couldn't help but smile back at him as he seized his leg. He began to run his fingers across America's sensitive inner thigh. He gave his lover solid strokes twice to attempt to keep him aroused and then went back to tickling. America actually started to laugh out loud. Spurred on by the sounds America was making, England began to work his way up the leg.

"No," The younger nation said between laughs, "Not- not my foot!"

"Why not?" England asked, getting a firm grip on his ankle.

"Please, it- it's super ticklish!"

England grinned evilly down at him, "That's the point," And with that he brushed the tips of his fingers against the arch of America's foot.

The larger man actually shrieked at that, entire body shaking with laughter. England couldn't help but feel in awe when he looked down at his lover. Every single one of his strong muscles was being worked at once, showing off how much raw power he actually had. His eyes were squeezed shut, but his mouth was wide open. Every inch of his skin was flushed pink. And somehow, through it all, he was still fully aroused. Just the sight was enough to bring England, who had started to go slightly soft, back to full attention.

He shifted his grip on America so that he could hold his ankle and tickle his foot with the same hand. England spat into his palm, making sure to get a good amount of the liquid on his hand. He then reached down and wrapped his hand around America's cock, pumping it a few times. America's shudders went from ones of hysterics to ones of pleasure and England let go of his ankle.

"Not ticklish here, I take it?" England asked, smirking.

"No," America said, "I don't want you to stop though."

"I don't have to," England said.

"You do for a sec."

"Why?" England asked, letting go.

"So I can do this," He grabbed England and flipped them again.

"Little rat!" England shouted, not really meaning it.

America shrugged, "Hey, I gave up one of your awesome hand jobs to get you like this."

England scowled, but didn't say anything.

America seemed to take it as an okay, because he went down England's body, leaving a wet trail of sloppy kisses and lots of licking. The older nation loved it when America threw away any and all of his technique, just letting his passion and youthful energy take over. He shuddered and let his hands rest on America's neck, letting them be pulled down with him.

The larger nation paused over England's cock for a moment and just breathed on it. England let out a particularly violent shudder, he knew what was coming. America's tongue flicked out once, twice, and then he slowly took in England's head.

England furrowed his brow. That wasn't like him. He usually went right for it, deepthroating him after nothing but taking a moment to compose himself. He looked down at America to figure out what was going on. When the younger nation saw that he was looking, he let go completely. England winced as cool air surrounded his wet head.

"You took your time teasing me," America said, "Now it's my turn."

England was about to protest, but then America licked him all the way from base to tip, "Oh, _Jesus," _England said, gripping America's hair.

He felt the cocky little shit smirk against him before taking the tip in his mouth again. Part of him wanted to just thrust up and make America swallow it all, but he wouldn't have been expecting it so he might have ended up choking or biting down, neither of which would be good. So instead, England just allowed him to keep playing his game. He was glad that he did because America started to slowly work his way down England's cock. The younger nation's pace just made him appreciate his mouth even more, so soft and tight and wet. England worked so hard to keep his hips still, even though he would occasionally fail and push himself deeper into America's mouth. The younger nation didn't seem to mind. He just accepted everything until England was fully encased in heat and wetness and _fuck. _And then America swallowed. England let out a cry and threw his head back into the pillows. America swallowed a few more times, and on every occasion England let out a cry and tugged at his hair.

Then the unthinkable happened. America let him go and pulled away.

"No…" England whined.

America laughed and crawled up to kiss him on the cheek, "Hey, you torture me, I torture you. Besides, look at how wet you are now." He ran a finger along England's cock.

England shivered from the feeling but said, "Yes, and look at how _cold _that made me."

"Won't be cold for long," America said, rolling them onto their sides.

He slid his cock next to England and wrapped his fingers around them both. He let out a soft cry, but England just shivered. He spat into his hand again and placed it next to America's.

America looked at him and smiled, "Love it when we're like this."

"Next to each other?" England asked, starting to move.

America groaned and joined him, "Yeah. Come closer."

England scooted forward so that his and America's chests were flush with each other. Dear God, America was so hot that England could swear he was searing his skin. The younger nation just smiled and grabbed England's free hand with his own. Their fingers tangled over their cocks as well, helping them to move together better. England let his eyes flutter closed so that he could better focus on the feeling.

"No," America said, "Open your eyes."

England did as he was told.

"Thanks. I love looking at them; they're such a pretty green."

"Are they?" England asked. He couldn't keep his eyes all the way open, but he didn't let them close beyond half-mast.

"Yeah."

Neither of them could really think of anything else to say. What else did they really need to say? Everything was perfect. The bed was soft, America was warm, and England was surrounded by a haze of pleasure he never wanted to leave.

However, America didn't seem content to just let them drift through their mutual masturbation. He began to slide his hand faster, making England follow him. America's vigor couldn't be matched, but something about it made England want to try. He began helping to stroke them faster and faster. The pleasure wasn't as much of a haze now. England was more aware of what was going on, of every little groan that America let out, every bead of sweat that rolled down either of their bodies, every shift of the blankets beneath them. However, it wasn't like the pleasure was gone. It felt more as though the haze had all been condensed and forced into his balls. He felt tight and heavy and hot and he wanted it out badly.

America seemed to return the sentiment, because his face looked more strained now, and he was pumping faster and faster too. He was close, wasn't he? They were both so close. England wanted to look down to watch, but their chests and hands would be in the way. Instead he just kept his eyes trained on America's face. He watched as the younger nation gnawed on his lower lip in an attempt to keep quiet. His eyes were shut tightly and sweat was rolling down his forehead sideways. Under any other circumstances, England probably would have laughed. However, in the middle of sex he found it unbelievably arousing. He let out a groan. He was so close, so damn close.

Then he got the last push he needed. America let out a shudder and a particularly loud groan. He had an absolutely beautiful look of relief on his face as he emptied into their joined hands. But more than that, it was probably the burning heat of his come against England's base that prompted the Brit's orgasm.

For a few moments he just laid there and allowed waves of pleasure to wash over him. He was vaguely aware of America reaching over for a tissue to clean up their hands and groins and wiping him down. However, he was too busy feeling sated and happy to really care about what was going on.

He felt America watching him and opened his eyes. He saw his lover staring back at him from behind fogged glasses. England reached over and took the spectacles away from him. His eyes were back to their usual sea-blue color, which looked quite flattering against his damp fringe.

"You were fantastic," England said softly.

"Right back at ya," America replied, ruffling England's hair. He yawned, "What do you say we call it a day early? Let's just shower and go to sleep. I'm exhausted."

"Alright," England sat up, "So I take it you're not going to try to spring shower sex on me this time."

"Oh man, I'd love to," America grinned as he sat up, "But I don't think I can do it. I guess I'm just getting old…" he pouted.

"You can't be." England got out of bed and rolled his shoulders, "I'm sure you'll age like milk when the time comes."

"Isn't the saying 'like good wine'?"

"Yes. But you'll age like milk."

"Bastard," America grumbled.

"Come on, you twit," England said, holding out a hand for him, "Let's go. We have a long day tomorrow."

"Coming _mother," _America said, grabbing England's wrist and allowing him to pull him up.

"We do. You always insist on getting up at dawn," England said walking away.

"It's the right way to do it!"

"I don't care. It's too early."

"That's not what makes it long." America wrapped his arms around England's waist, "What makes it long is that we get up and work all day and then have super awesome mind-blowing sex."

"That may have something to do with it," England admitted, turning slightly to kiss him.


End file.
